


Repercussions

by HermitLibrary_Archivist



Series: Jabberwocky - the adult and slash stories [4]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-26
Updated: 2008-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 11:56:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4875925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermitLibrary_Archivist/pseuds/HermitLibrary_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Paula</p><p>Right at the end of the Jabberwocky saga, Blake and Avon come together, with a little unintentional help from Jabberwocky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repercussions

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Judith and Aralias, the archivists: This story was originally archived at [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Hermit_Library), which was closed due to maintenance costs and lack of time. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2015. We posted announcements about the move and emailed authors as we imported, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hermitlibrary/profile). 
> 
> This work has been backdated to 26th of May 2008, which is the last date the Hermit.org archive was updated, not the date this fic was written. In some cases, fics can be dated more precisely by searching for the zine they were originally published in on [Fanlore](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Main_Page).
> 
> Artist Val Westall

By Paula  
---  
  
 

  


 

"And stay out of my mind!" Avon snapped, looking around  _Jabberwocky's_  flight deck, grateful he was alone there. He had been enjoying the watch simply because it was his alone, and he had spent part of it doing some fine-tuning of various pieces of field equipment in preparation for their next planetfall. That Vengler was a boring world long committed to the Resistance and that their only purpose there was a goodwill visit did not make Avon any less wary.  _Jabberwocky's_ crew had been attacked more than once in the supposed safety of Ryalon Base, and Avon was not given to taking chances with his life and safety or, more recently, with the safety of any of the others.

      The mission was a minor one. Not all the crew had not come along. Gan, newly restored to them, was back on Ryalon, since the removal of his limiter implant was recent enough for the possible risks of a field mission to prove dangerous to his recovery. Though Avon would have happily left him behind, Perren was present - Blake had thought the presence of the psych tech might be useful in determining the mood of the audience for his speeches and the people at the political receptions - but Perren's teammates, Edge and Tanz, were back at the base, putting the finishing touches on the second mindship. Cally had stayed behind, too, as one of the few telepaths of the Resistance, in hope that she could assist the new ship-mind adjust to the transfer. Perren would do a lot of work with the new ship when he returned, but his real work would not begin until the process was finished, while Cally could provide a link for the man before he became a part of the ship. Tarrant was here, of course, and the other three women, and Vila, but Hugh Tiver, the ship's doctor, had stayed behind to work with the medical team who would be doing the brain transplant.

      Avon missed Cally. He could sometimes go for days without thinking much about her, but that was when she was here. Their relationship was fairly open, in that neither of them made demands upon the other nor expected verbal commitments, but neither of them would have minded demands. The only person who came closer to Avon than Cally was Blake, and that was something both of them knew and accepted. Cally had always said serenely that there was no place for jealousy since she was completely satisfied with the side of himself Avon was able to give her. It was not in her nature to be possessive, and while there had been times when Avon rather wished she would be slightly more demanding of her rights, another side of him was reluctant to make a permanent commitment - or rather, to admit to making one. Funny that he could be quite content with the status quo until he actually considered it, and then he would draw back. Perren had tried to talk to him about that on several different occasions, but Avon tended to avoid Perren, suspecting the brown-haired man had an uncanny knack of reading him too well. He could admit to himself that he had slowly become more trusting than he had been for years, but it was not his way to announce it to the world. He rather hoped the world, at least the part of it who were considered _Jabberwocky's_ crew, would have the good taste to pretend not to notice.

      Of course, these days, most of them read him better than he would like. Link-mode had done that, the sharing of minds that took place when they joined mentally with their telepathic ship to perform routine ship functions. Any of them could go into link-mode, but the ship with the human brain at its core had been designed for a more intense linkage, a permanent one. It was currently bonded with Tarrant, and likely to stay that way, but a recent Federation attack had temporarily severed those linkages and only Avon, whose telepathy was of a different sort from Cally's, had been able to reach Jabberwocky and prevent his insanity in the void created by the breakdown of the linkage. To do this, Avon had for a short time become Jabberwocky's link-mate.

      Always insistent that such was his rightful place, Avon had discovered, to his amazement, that he no longer needed the ship link as he had once thought he did. While he did not find the total mental union as distasteful as he would have done at the beginning, and while he enjoyed the sense of control it gave him, it was not something he would choose on a permanent basis; so when the linkages were repaired, he had returned Jabberwocky to Tarrant.

      Which would have been fine if not for the occasional bleedover of sensation and thought that had troubled him ever since.

      "I'm sorry, Avon," Jabberwocky now said aloud. "Was I doing it again? I didn't mean to." He added with a chuckle, "It's just that being linked with you was fun and you've been stand-offish since."

      "I am not stand-offish," Avon returned in his most stand-offish voice. "I simply prefer that you keep me out of the routine link, and I'm sure Tarrant prefers the same."

      "Tarrant's asleep," Jabberwocky admitted. "I wanted someone to talk to."

      "Then talk out loud," Avon replied. "Or ask before you come in." He frowned, pondering the situation. "Do you have these little lapses with Blake, Cally or Vila as well?" They had all been linked with Jabberwocky in the past, though Vila's link had been as transitory as Avon's, to cover a temporary crisis.

      "No," Jabberwocky admitted. "Blake and I didn't really fit, you know. I love Blake, but he wasn't quite happy to have me in his mind and I never go there except for link mode. Cally, of course, is a telepath and we frequently communicate that way, but it's not really linkage, more like routine telepathy. She needs that, since you're the only other telepath here and not that fond of it in the first place. But Cally was trained all her life to avoid slipping into other people's privacy, so she has automatic shields. I couldn't slip in unawares with Cally."

      "Then why am I singled out?" Avon asked coolly, resenting the distinction.

      "I think it's because you're a telepath, but you're not thoroughly trained. You don't shield automatically. You did it so completely for years you blocked it all out, but now that your talent is out in the open again, you can't close it away without severing it altogether. Blocking me out would be a conscious thing now, and sometimes it slips. So when it slips and I'm distracted at the same time, there's a bleedthrough. The longer we're unlinked, the less often it will happen, I think, and as you become more comfortable with your telepathy and better trained in its use, you will be able to put up automatic shields."

      "That's reassuring," Avon said sourly, not enamoured of the hours of practice Cally was always suggesting.

      Jabberwocky laughed. "Don't be stuffy, Father. You know it was fun, being linked."

      "I know no such thing. It was useful, being linked, but it didn't happen through choice, for either of us. You wouldn't give up Tarrant - which speaks volumes about your questionable taste - and I would not choose to have a permanent mental invasion."

      Jabberwocky laughed, undaunted by the glower on Avon's face. "If you were really angry, I'd know it. I'm sorry I bothered you, but Tarrant's due up soon and I'll have a nice distraction."

      "A distraction at any rate, though I should doubt how 'nice' it will be," Avon said, and picked up the booster he'd been reassembling. "For now, let me finish my work. At least when Vila interrupts me he does it out loud - and if I am fortunate, I can hear him coming." He turned his attention to the device and didn't converse with the ship again, remaining silent and uncommunicative until Soolin came to relieve him. He built up a conscious wall to shut out Jabberwocky, not because he disliked Jabberwocky, which he didn't, but out of determination to avoid a mental invasion. When no one bothered him at all in the whole time, he found himself rather resenting his isolation, illogical though it that was.

      

 

      When Avon went to the rest room in search of his meal he encountered Blake eating lunch alone and programmed a tray which he carried over to join the rebel.

      "Blake," he said by way of greeting.

      "Hello, Avon. Watch over?"

      When Avon responded by dipping his head in response to a question he thought unnecessary, Blake smiled. "I wonder if I could borrow you for a time when you've finished eating. The computer interface in my room is acting up. Jabberwocky says it needs some replacement components."

      "And of course such work is beyond you?" Avon said wryly. "Or is it that if I'm up to my elbows in your computer I'll be a captive audience for a preview of your new speech?"

      Blake grinned. "Well, perhaps that's a part of it, but you are our computer expert, after all. Come along and earn your pay."

      "Pay?" Avon said with a dry smile. "I admit I would value some pay, should any come my way. However, think of this: I am quite likely to be brutally honest with you about your speech. Are you certain you are up to it?"

      "I always have been," Blake replied. "You've always been the one to keep me honest, Avon. You told me the truth when other people tried to placate me with lies. You pointed out every single one of my follies and foibles. With a friend like you..."

      "Who requires enemies?" Avon concluded, amused. At times like this, he enjoyed Blake's company very much, though it was never wise to tell him so.

      Blake's grin widened as if he knew exactly what Avon was thinking. "Precisely. So will you come and listen to my speech?"

      "If I must, I must," Avon replied and resigned himself to an hour of total boredom.

      Blake began the speech the minute Avon walked into his cabin, before he even had the casing off the outlet. With a sigh, Avon told himself he could always pretend to listen while he concentrated on the schematics and data boards before him. Yet as he activated the screen and called for a list of the damages, half his mind was on his work and the other half on Blake. The rebel leader started slowly, collecting himself and his thoughts, but it took very little to bring his crusading zeal to the fore. Avon half-expected him to start with humour, to cajole his audience into listening, but Blake didn't do that. Instead, he started low, making the audience - Avon - work for his every word. The tech recognised the strategy for what it was, but Blake was good at it, his voice golden as he coaxed his one-man audience into paying attention, into anticipating the next word. Though Avon was more a rebel through proximity than through any deep and burning commitment to the Cause, he found himself hanging on Blake's words, and he could imagine the audience tomorrow night erupting into cheers again and again. Yet it wouldn't do to show Blake how moving his speech was. Avon was even better than Blake at making his audience work for it, so he bent his head over the damaged data board, tracing the damaged circuits with a probe, pretending boredom and a complete lack of interest, making Blake's voice strengthen with new purpose.

      Even as his fingers and eyes traced the damage and speculated whether it would be better to install a whole new board or to repair this one, his ears were Blake's, as the rousing and compelling words worked their magic. Avon closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of sheer pleasure at the sound of Blake in full cry. Though he would never admit it to the other man, a part of him awakened to this side of Blake, even at first when he had wanted nothing less than to be drawn to someone so likely to get him killed. A long time ago, Jenna had been drawn to the man who still had the power to dream, and though Avon had fought the pull far longer and more successfully than Jenna had, he too had been compelled by the dreamer. For a time, Blake had toppled from the pedestal upon which Avon had unwittingly placed him, but Blake was back, and the pedestal still stood.

      A flood of sudden warmth ran through Avon, surprising him in its intensity. He was not given to moments of sheer sentiment, but there it was. Blake was special, and Avon had not been able to deny it for some time. What startled him now was the strength of the affection he could not hold back. He looked at Blake and listened to Blake, and Blake's eyes gleamed as he realised he had caught his audience.

      The rebel plunged on with even greater zeal, moving closer involuntarily, wooing his audience still further, his eyes and Avon's locked together. Avon had seen the technique with other speakers at different times, the sense that the words were special and designed for him alone, but if Blake thought to win him to the Cause that way, he was wrong. Avon wasn't hearing the words. He couldn't have told anyone what Blake was saying. He could have been reciting an engineering text or the list of the Federation's Top Ten Wanted Criminals for all Avon knew. He let the words flow over him and his eyes never left Blake's. The room crackled with intensity.

      Blake was within touching distance now, his face aflame with earnest drive, with triumph, with sheer delight. Avon reacted to it, his whole body aware of Blake. A voice in his head said,  _Yes, yes, yes,_  though he didn't understand what it was in reaction to. The data board slid from his fingers as he forgot he was holding it and even when it clattered to the floor unheeded, he didn't reach after it. Blake saw it go and his smile widened but Avon scarcely registered it.

      He leaned closer to Blake, as the speech built to a climactic moment, putting out a hand. In his mind, he felt flesh beneath his fingers, arching up into the touch, and suddenly Avon's whole body was alive with sexual arousal. It burst into his consciousness, drowning out everything but himself and Blake, and it was as if they were together, touching each other, mouths catching and clinging, tongues exploring, bodies pressing against each other, as vivid in Avon's mind as if it were actually happening. He was momentarily stunned, so great was his desire to take one quick step, gather Blake into his arms and make love to him.

      Blake's voice was so hypnotic, so compelling as he made whatever point the speech required, and Blake's hand clasped his when Avon reached out. He wasn't sure if Blake believed he'd sold Avon on the Cause or if the rebel was even aware of the heightened tension in the room, but perhaps it was the latter because his voice ran down, his eyes widened and he said, "Avon?" in a questioning voice as if he found himself confronting a stranger.

      The voices in Avon's head were louder now, driving him on, making his fingers tighten over Blake's, his thumb slide caressingly over the back of Blake's hand. He said, "Blake!" in an urgent cry and pulled the other man against him. Blake came, startled but not unwilling, and did not resist when Avon groaned and kissed him with fierce fury as if only ferocity could compensate him for the burning need that had sprung into being full blown from nowhere.

      For that first startled instant, Blake didn't respond at all, then, suddenly, his mouth opened beneath Avon's and he returned the kiss as if he had been starving for it all his life. The two men tightened their hold on each other as if they could meld and become one person, and in Avon's mind he could hear a burst of triumphant passion, urging him on.  _Don't stop,_  the voice pleaded.  _Don't ever stop._

      Avon had become incapable of stopping. His fingers fumbled with the opening of Blake's shirt, desperate to touch the bare flesh beneath, hungry to be touched in return, to feel for real the ghost touches that were filling his mind with need. "Damn it, Blake..." he groaned.

      "Avon, Avon," said Blake incoherently but Avon's meaning must have been transmitted somehow - telepathically? - because Blake already had Avon's tunic off and was working on his shirt. His fingers slid up underneath the material, hands splayed against Avon's chest, fingertips toying with the nipples. Avon's breath caught because the reality was far better than the ghost images in his mind, and he burnt with flame wherever Blake touched him. When the heat of Blake's fingers opened his trousers and moved inside, Avon was already painfully erect and he pushed his hips forward to meet the touch as Blake stroked him, first light and teasing, then encircling him and pumping hard. Avon almost came right then, but Blake took his hand away as Avon copied the motion. They paused a moment to kick off shoes and trousers, then they were on Blake's bed. Avon had one frivolous thought, that it was a good thing Blake hadn't made his speech on the flight deck, then he was lost to everything but the fierce pleasure Blake was giving him.

      A distant part of Avon's mind, one he was incapable of listening to, was confused, wondering blankly how he had come to this, but the rest of him, a part he had long denied and never consciously admitted until this moment, was glad. The voices were still there, still inside him, still urging him on, but they were distant now, not as important as the reality.

      They rolled together in a tangle of arms and legs, and yet, in the midst of the uncontrollable need and the urge to satisfy it that neither man could resist, Avon felt something more, something stronger, a satisfaction, a knowledge that he and Blake had always been meant to be together, that their relationship, whatever it was destined to be, was stronger than any other either man had ever known or would know. When they lay together, Blake pulling Avon on top of him and straining up against him with a frantic need, there was a kind of aching tenderness to it, as if, at last, the feelings they had always known existed were given a tangible reality, as if here was the one outlet to express the love that neither man had been able to admit anywhere but inside the healing mode and even then cloaked in roundabout words. Avon had never felt such completeness in his life, not with Anna, not even with Cally, never with anyone else; it was as if he and Blake had been inevitable from the beginning of time and nothing that had gone before or since could damage this moment.

      "Love me, Avon," Blake pleaded, his face full of wonder as if he had just witnessed the birth of suns and planets. He raised one hand and pressed it against Avon's cheek, stroking gently, then with fierce need he slid the hand away around to Avon's back where his other hand joined it and pulled Avon close.

      Avon arched his hips, too aroused to deny it had he even wanted to deny it, pressing his body against Blake as if offering him all the words he'd never been able to say, all the feelings he'd never been able to admit to. "Oh, yes," he breathed in a stunned voice. "It appears that I do."

      Blake's eyes gleamed and he pulled Avon's head down to kiss him. Their mouths clung, their bodies strained closer as if they would reinvent the moment, as if it had never before held reality. Avon's inner voices cried out, but Avon ignored them because the reality was so much stronger, and with a desperate tenderness that almost overwhelmed the burning desire in his body, he gave himself to Blake, arching against him, feeling Blake's hips jut up to meet him, cock against cock, until, with an intensity that drove him over the edge, he came, feeling Blake's body pulsing beneath him as he responded.

      When Avon's body finally stilled, he rolled off Blake and lay beside him, unable to find any words, afraid to find them for fear the moment would shatter into something mundane and meaningless, but Blake turned onto his side, his eyes so bright they might have held unshed tears, and he kissed Avon with a tenderness that sent whole new feelings fluttering into the pit of Avon's stomach. The voices in his head were gone now, but they didn't matter. What did matter was that Blake was here and he was here and everything was different. With a hand that trembled, he reached up and touched Blake's sweat-dampened curls. He didn't speak because the wrong words would be far worse than no words at all and because, if he spoke, he'd need to acknowledge this new Avon he had become and didn't understand, and even feared.

      Blake lay back, smiling. "If I'd known a speech was what it took," he said breathlessly, "I would have made one long ago."

      "You made a great many," Avon replied, reassured somehow by the tone of Blake's words. "Long ago, I would not have been - ready, perhaps. Even now, until it happened, I did not know..."

      Blake shook his head with gentle amusement. "Didn't you, Avon? I think I knew long ago, but I was half afraid, afraid you'd curse me for the fool you so often called me."

      "Most likely I would have - then," Avon replied. Blake's honesty deserved no less from him. "I never thought it, Blake," he admitted, even now the honesty hard work. He had so long learned to repress his feelings, even to deny them, that only the long experience with Jabberwocky, the birth of his telepathy and the development of his healing abilities had enabled him to say this much.

      "It wasn't until I came to  _Jabberwocky_ that I believed I could ever - ever have anything to offer you," Blake confessed.

      "You have always had something to offer, Blake. Until now, I wasn't sure exactly what its full scope was."

      Blake smiled, a faint lift to his lips. "I thought the Federation had made me impotent along with taking my memories," he said. "It wasn't until Jenna that I knew I had been wrong. I owe her for that."

      "You love her," Avon said, not remotely threatened by the words. What he felt for Blake defied conventional ties, and he felt no threat from Blake's feelings for Jenna.

      "Yes. Not like this, but I do care, just as you care for Cally."

      Avon nodded. This had not changed his feelings for the Auron woman, either. It had just opened him up to new feelings, feelings that had long been there, never voiced, never admitted, even resisted. Avon was not vastly experienced in lovemaking. As Cally had not been the first woman in his life, neither was Blake the first man, but that had been long ago. Well, he thought wryly, perhaps not so long. Sometimes, on  _Liberator_ , he and Vila had amused themselves together, but it had been only that: amusement. Avon knew now that, at the slightest signal from Blake back then, he would have responded, but Blake had made no such signals, and now Avon realised why. Yet this was better because that old Avon could never have responded like this, could never have given himself to Blake without making it a challenge, denying the truth. Idly he twisted a lock of Blake's hair around his finger, comfortable with the gesture.

      "What made you take the chance?" Blake asked wonderingly, as if he had realised he could ask it. "Surely not my brilliant oratory?"

      "Something in my head made it impossible to resist. Perhaps it was your compelling oratory, though not, I fear, the words themselves. Winning me to your level of rebel devotion will be far harder than winning me to your bed."

      "Now that I could take as a challenge," Blake replied, his eyes sparkling. "Though right now it is hardly my first priority." He reached up and detached Avon's hand from his hair, kissed the back of it, and then pulled Avon against him again.

      "I hope," said Avon with as much dryness as he could muster through the sudden quickening of his breath, "that this means you will prove insatiable."

      "It proves how much I want you, Avon," Blake replied, covering Avon's mouth with his own.

      This time, they were slower, not caught up in the frantic urgency of the first time, so they took the effort to learn each other's pleasures as they explored each other's bodies. Coaxing reaction with hands and mouths, with slow strokes and hot touches, they fell together in a tangle and moved against each other, building the pleasure to new heights. Avon studied Blake's face, holding back from him suddenly, thinking of a possibility.

      "Did you lure me here, Blake?" he demanded, a thread of amusement creeping into his voice. "Was this a part of your plan?"

      "I-" Blake paused to catch his breath. "I wanted to," he admitted. "I have for a long time. Not right away, not until after Soolin-"

      "I thought as much," Avon said breathlessly, barely conscious of anything but the pleasure of the moment. "I thought you - ah, Blake, that feels good. I - thought you had something going there."

      "Jealous?" Blake asked, a sparkle in his eyes.

      "Need I be?" Avon moaned, aroused enough to lose interest in the conversation entirely.

      "Never."

      "Simply that a bodyguard... a bodyguard must know your body if she is to guard it?" Avon ventured with a twinkle of his own.

      Blake laughed out loud. "Perhaps. But then I knew it was all right to want you like this. Damn it, Avon, I can't wait."

      "Then don't." They moved together and Avon cried out. Aroused beyond bearing, he abandoned himself to the sensations, aware of nothing but the joining, the total union of their two bodies. He heard himself moaning, and he spoke directly into Blake's mind. //Blake, Blake, Blake//. Using the telepathy he often shunned, he projected every sensation he was feeling back at Blake, and heard the rebel cry out in stunned delight as he picked up on the feelings, as if they were in gestalt.

      When it was over, Avon felt completely spent, drained by the intensity of the moment. When Blake encircled him with one arm and pulled him against his chest, Avon closed his eyes in complete contentment and both of them slept.

      

 

      It was only much later, when Avon awakened in the early morning beside a gently snoring Blake, that he wondered how he had gone from working on a set of components to sharing the best moments of physical pleasure he had ever experienced, to actually confessing his long-buried feelings for Blake. It wasn't that it upset him to realise he had finally lowered his guard to Blake - and was prepared to do it again. It just seemed so unlikely, that he and Blake had suddenly looked at each other and tumbled into bed. He knew there had been a couple of other times, lately, when this might have happened but hadn't, and he had been content to hold back, content to twist it around in his mind to keep himself from knowing. He had read once that love was like lightning, that it couldn't be made to strike, nor could it be stopped from striking when the time was right. He wasn't sure where he had read that; such maudlin, sentimental subjects were not his normal fare. But now he suspected he had spent years trying to stop the lightning from striking when anyone but a fool would have known it had already struck, already marked him. He remembered Blake in the healing mode when Witt had driven him from linkage. Slowly reviving to awareness, Blake had said, "I knew someone called Avon once... loved him." Avon had been unable to return the declaration, but he had called Blake a fool for it, and then admitted himself to be as much a fool. Yet he had known before then, known all along that, of everyone he had ever met, Blake had made the strongest impact upon him, stronger than Cally, stronger even than Anna.

      Yet sentiment was hardly his strong suit, nor was it his choice. Perhaps he did love Blake, though he didn't mean to go around saying so. Yes, why not call it that, though he doubted he could be romantic for Blake. He had never really been so for Cally.

      Cally? Did he mean to give her up now that he and Blake had shared this? He would not give up Blake, never, but he didn't want to give up Cally, either. Would he do it if Blake asked him to? Yet he knew Blake would not ask that, and he suspected Blake did not mean to give up Jenna. If anyone would resent this new development, he suspected, it would be Jenna. She had certainly resented Soolin, though Avon had suspected that there was very little to resent. Yes, Blake and Soolin had been together, but it would have been hard to resist the young woman when she was there and obviously willing. Blake was, after all, human. Human and flawed, and Avon would not have it different.

      "Damn you, Blake," he murmured. "You have turned my life upside-down since the first time I met you. Even more than Anna, you wouldn't let me go."

      "And never will," Blake said sleepily without opening his eyes. "Unless you ask me to."

      "I doubt I would be such a fool," Avon replied wryly.

      "I've never thought you a fool, Avon."

      "Ah, but I have been, many times." When Blake opened his eyes, Avon smiled at him, an unfamiliar gesture, for he had never been much given to meaningless smiles. This one, however, was natural and felt right, so it was far from meaningless. "Simply not this time," Avon concluded. He sat up, moving carefully. "I rather fancy a shower." He felt sticky and hot but reluctant to leave the bed.

      Blake grinned, his eyes lighting with enthusiasm. "An excellent idea. I'll share it with you."

      "I may not be able to walk out of here," Avon complained, but not very hard, as he stood up, and Blake smiled engagingly and bounded up after him.

      Soon, two voices could be heard breathlessly gasping out their pleasure over the rush of water as they stood beneath the pounding spray and satisfied each other yet again.

      

 

      Avon was alone on the flight deck on first watch when Vila came strutting in, looking as pleased with himself as only Vila could look. There was a sort of contentment in his eyes that Avon had seen in his own in the mirror after the shower with Blake. Interesting. Soolin had paired with Hugh after the incident with Gan's limiter that had nearly destroyed  _Jabberwocky_. Jenna and Cally were accounted for, and Perren, while that young man might be, and probably was, sexually adventuresome, had shown no signs of interest in anyone who was not female. Tarrant? Possible, for he and Vila were on much better terms lately than ever before. Avon had rarely paid attention to anyone else's sexual relationships - as long as he was not endangered or threatened, he was not very interested in other people's personal alliances - but now, after yesterday, he was a bit more receptive to those around him. Not so much interested as aware.

      Vila eyed him with a big, friendly grin. "When do we arrive?" he asked, plopping down on the forward couch as if he meant to stay there with his feet up and do no work at all until forced to move.

      "In seven hours. Blake has been in touch with the base to give them our arrival time." Blake had come along with Avon to the flight deck, the two of them rather too conscious of each other's presence, but when Blake had transmitted the message, he'd merely smiled at Avon and gone off to check the engineering reports with Jabberwocky. That was probably for the best. At this point, Avon was not entirely certain how to behave around Blake. His usual manner seemed somehow inappropriate, but neither did he wish to make an announcement to all and sundry, exposing himself to their speculation, their sidelong glances, their possible discussion behind his back. It was not their concern and never would be, but he didn't trust one of them not to enjoy their theories about what had happened.

      "Oh, good," said Vila brightly, his voice simply spilling over with hidden innuendoes, using exactly the tone Avon feared.

      "Meaning?" Avon asked suspiciously, eyeing Vila in a way that would have made the thief uneasy in pre- _Jabberwocky_  days.

      But Vila shook his head. If he had a hidden meaning, he didn't know what it was - or refused to admit it. For Vila, that was being remarkably circumspect, and Avon didn't trust him for a minute; but he hated to push it for fear of alerting Vila to the changed relationship between himself and Blake.

      "Why?" Vila asked, slanting a curious look at Avon. The computer tech had never thought him the fool he pretended to be, and of late it was obvious that he had never been one. "Do you have something to hide?"

      "Should I?" Avon asked with careful scorn. Vila knew him as well as anyone did, but Avon didn't want to expose the newness of his union with Blake for anyone to see. "Assuming I did, would you want to take the risk of questioning me?"

      Vila eyed him penetratingly. "Oh well, probably not," the thief replied, but in such mellow tones that Avon realised he was now suspicious. Knowing Vila, he was as likely as anyone to guess what was happening, if anyone would. Well, Perren might - that annoying young man being far too perceptive under his smart-mouthed exterior to suit Avon. And then there was Cally - he would have to talk to Cally when they returned to Ryalon. He owed her honesty. What made it even harder was the certainty that she would understand completely. She had a way of doing that.

      "What are you doing here so early?" Avon asked, taking the initiative with careful control. It worked better that way. "If you have nothing to do, perhaps you could take my watch. I could better spend this time..."

      "Sleeping," Vila said. "You look tired, Avon."

      "I have been doing repair work on computer data boards," Avon replied. "Time-consuming work. Beyond your comprehension, of course."

      "Ah yes. Computer data boards. Jabberwocky said you were fixing them - in Blake's cabin." There was that note of innuendo again. Was Vila merely probing, judging Avon's reactions, aware of a change and feeling his way to finding out what it was, or did he have a way of knowing? Jabberwocky might well know, though such information was usually erased to maintain crew privacy.

      "Blake's computer relays were burned out," Avon replied, stringently ignoring the insinuation in Vila's voice.

      "I see. They take a long time to fix. Well, go on then. I'll take your watch, Avon. See what a generous man I am, to volunteer for work?"

      "Truly remarkable," Avon replied, but he took Vila up on it anyway, half afraid he'd never hear the end of it if he stayed. He went to his own cabin and closed the door behind him, wondering if he should have stayed and brazened it out. Vila would be insufferable if he thought he'd scored points, though Avon could avoid him easily enough if he were careful. He'd had long practice in avoiding Vila.

      The minute he was completely in private he heard a voice. "Avon?" It was Jabberwocky, and Avon had never heard him sound so penitent.

      "Yes?" he asked with growing suspicion. He was dead certain he wasn't going to like what he heard next. His muscles tightened in preparation for threat. The old instincts hadn't faded simply because he had finally admitted his feelings for Blake.

      "I want - to apologise for yesterday."

      "Yesterday?" Avon froze, coldness knotting his stomach. Had Jabberwocky eavesdropped on his time with Blake on purpose? Had he refrained from erasing the memory? Or was it, somehow, something worse? "What do you mean, yesterday?" he snarled. "And make it good. I don't tolerate interference, not even from you."

      "You told me to stay out of your mind, to keep the link from activating," Jabberwocky said reluctantly. "And I did. Except that sometimes I - well, I forget."

      "You - a computer? You forget?" Avon's voice hardened. "I feel that entirely unlikely. Perhaps it's time to take apart some of your components. Don't doubt I could do it."

      "I know you could do it. Yes, I'm a computer, but I am also a man," Jabberwocky said with quiet dignity. "When you were linked with me, you knew me thoroughly, Avon. You knew about-" he hesitated, then said more quietly, "-my feelings for Tarrant?"

      Avon froze. He had more or less blocked himself away from anything resembling emotion in the linkage, hoping Jabberwocky would afford him the same courtesy, and prepared to enforce it if necessary. Such had been their dealings together, but Avon couldn't help knowing how much Jabberwocky loved Tarrant and, in consequence, how much Tarrant loved Jabberwocky. It was a relationship that could satisfy in all but the physical, but - Avon's brows drew together as he remembered something, no more than a quick flash in the vast composite that was Jabberwocky. In link mode, Tarrant could pull Jabberwocky in during sex and allow him to feel all that Tarrant - or his partner - felt. Avon had not conceptualised any of that at the time, having no need to take it further and only a little scientific curiosity about something he could never research. He had not been with Cally during his tenure as Jabberwocky's link-mate, nor had she expected him to, so he had not experienced it himself. He had preferred to keep it that way. Some things were meant to be entirely private.

      "Feelings which you - consummate?" Avon said in a cool voice. He had hardly imagined discussing "the birds and the bees" with a computer, and he was quite certain he did not like where this was going.

      "Yes. Through Tarrant's lover."

      So the computer could be discreet. "Vila," said Avon with total certainty. Vila would probably love the experience, and it would certainly explain the smug and contented look on his face when he'd appeared on the flight deck just now. "Does he enjoy being your surrogate?" Avon asked coldly, folding his arms across his chest.

      "It isn't like that," Jabberwocky returned hastily. "Well, not usually. Sometimes, yes. Vila is very generous. But mostly it is the three of us and it's fun. I never thought I could experience such sensations again, but I do."

      "Congratulations," said Avon in an icy and unforgiving voice.

      "You're angry with me." Jabberwocky still sounded penitent and Avon didn't care for that. He was certain he and Blake had been eavesdropped upon and he was prepared to disconnect the remote link in his cabin - if that were all it was.

      "I feel quite certain I will be," Avon replied. "I presume the link bled through during your last encounter." It made sense: his sudden, near instantaneous arousal yesterday when he was listening to Blake. Blake was not such a golden throat as that - everything had been enhanced through bleedthrough, probably while in gestalt, and it had influenced Avon. No one could be allowed to do that. He wouldn't permit it to happen again, even if it meant leaving for ever. His heart hardened against the computer, against Vila for being smug and knowing, against Blake for taking advantage of a situation that had been out of control.

      "I knew," Jabberwocky said reluctantly. "It was at the back of my mind and it didn't come to me until afterwards, but it bled through to you, and you and Blake-"

      "Are not your concern," Avon snapped savagely. "Damn you, how dare you interfere in my private life?"

      "Don't be childish," Jabberwocky snapped back with as much intensity as Avon. "It was scarcely intentional. I'm sure your mind is rational and ordered when in the midst of lovemaking, but most people become too caught up in the moment to concentrate on externals. I'm sorry if I influenced you, but let me ask you a question. Do you think it would have worked that way if you didn't already want Blake? Had you been with Perren or Jenna, nothing would have happened except perhaps that you would have made an excuse to leave them - and find a cold shower."

      "Very amusing," Avon said icily. "How dare you manipulate me so? How dare you read my mind or suggest you can guess my motivations? You can't. None of you can."

      "It was unintentional, Avon. You have to know after all the linking and gestalt between us all that no one here would deliberately hurt you. I wouldn't do harm to you on purpose, because I love you, too. You're my father, though you don't like me to say it." A pause, then Jabberwocky continued, "It was an accident, a mistake, yet I shouldn't be sorry. You and Blake love each other and have since I've met you both. You wanted him for a long time. I felt it in the back of your mind when we were linked, but you were so private about it I didn't probe it. I wouldn't have."

      "I'm quite relieved," Avon responded with cold scorn. "You know too much about me. I think a bit of creative mindwiping might be called for."

      "I don't think you have that right," returned the computer. "Your ego makes you believe everything is meant to affect you, but in the overall scheme of things, you're as unimportant as any of us. I didn't think of you last night, and neither did the others. They don't know what happened, though I think Vila may have guessed. It wasn't because of me, though. It was because he knows you so well. He walked onto the flight deck and saw something on your face none of us is used to. Serenity. Contentment. And of course the aftermath of love. It didn't take a genius to reason it out."

      "Fortunately, because Vila is far from a genius."

      "He is far smarter than you will admit openly, but that doesn't matter."

      "What matters is that you have no right to intervene in my life," Avon insisted. He didn't want to admit that underneath his rage and resentment was the concern that Jabberwocky's influence had manipulated them both. Avon could be honest enough with himself to admit Jabberwocky's unwelcome interference might have taken him in a direction he might not have chosen to risk before, yet a direction he did not regret taking. Yet if Blake had been manipulated as well, if Blake's reactions were purely the result of Jabberwocky's bleedthrough... Avon stiffened, cold and furious, his stomach a bitter and angry knot. He glared at Jabberwocky's fascia. If it became necessary, Vengler might prove a decent planet upon which to locate a bolthole. There were those on board  _Jabberwocky_  who knew him far too well. He closed his mind to Jabberwocky, erecting consciously the walls that had slipped during Blake's speech last night. Jabberwocky would gain no new ammunition here.

      As if he could still read Avon's mind, or as if he were perceptive enough to guess it, the computer said hastily, "I wasn't manipulating Blake last night, Avon. I have never been able to do so. We don't link well. Blake's actions were entirely his own. His motivations and reactions were completely natural. I might have influenced you into doing something you've long wanted to do anyway, but he reacted naturally. He wanted last night as much as you did. Something kept you apart, and now it does no longer. You should thank me, not curse me."

      Avon's first instinct wasn't to offer thanks but to drive his fist through the glowing fascia. "I told you not to interfere..." he snarled.

      "Would you give it up?" Jabberwocky demanded. "Your feelings for Blake existed, now they have been consummated. I doubt you would cede that experience, no matter what the cause."

      Avon's protective instincts were insisting that he give up not only Blake, but the ship and everything that went with it, that he should leave altogether and find himself that bolthole he'd always threatened Blake with back on  _Liberator_. The planet they were approaching would serve quite nicely, out of range of the Federation, a free and unaffiliated world. But Avon's protective instincts had never been as good as they should be where Blake was concerned, and Avon suspected the bolthole threat had always, in part, been an attempt to press Blake into urging him to stay, insisting he was needed and important and the others couldn't do without him. He knew now that Blake had given him as much freedom as possible then, afraid any attempt to tie Avon down would force him to bolt. They hadn't been able to talk then, and any question of last night's honesty between them had been so remote as to be impossible. At the first sign of it, Avon would have fled without a backward look. Now he frowned. He was prepared to leave, to throw it all over, to escape from these people who suddenly knew him far too well. Yet walk away from Blake? Give up the security he had here, the loyalty of the crew, their support and protection? He didn't like the openness of the link, but the old Avon wouldn't have tolerated it at all, and if nothing else, it proved he could trust these people. Even Jabberwocky, who had manipulated him, had not meant it harmfully.

      Yet it had still been manipulation. If Blake knew that, would he choose to back off again, to resume their original distance?

      He pushed that thought out of his mind, contemptuous of it. Was he no better than a lovesick fool, prepared to throw over all his habits of security for love? He sneered, contemptuous of himself for being such a weakling, a fool.

      Yet if Jabberwocky were correct and Blake had been completely unmanipulated...

      "Avon?" Jabberwocky's voice held sudden amusement.

      "You find this humorous?" Avon demanded in icy rage.

      "I didn't influence Blake," the computer reminded him. "And even though you are a telepath, you didn't influence Blake. Blake made his own choice, totally uninfluenced, except by his feelings for you."

      "So?" said Avon as coolly as possible. He was remembering all too well the feelings he had shared in Blake's bed. It hadn't been Jabberwocky bleeding through the whole time. He had forgotten that as soon as he and Blake had held one another. It had not bled through when they had awakened this morning. That had been Avon, acting on his own initiative, choosing to be with Blake while Blake had chosen joyfully to be with him. Jabberwocky had put no words into his mouth, either. All he had done was put a sense of desire into Avon's mind. Had Avon been with Perren or Jenna - yes, Jabberwocky was right. Arousal at such a moment would have been embarrassing, inappropriate. He would have gone away immediately, presumably to disconnect Jabberwocky or at least to read him a furious lesson. If Cally had been here she would probably have understood, and the others would not have tempted him. Well, he told himself honestly, he had always been curious about Soolin, perhaps because of her obvious attraction to Blake. And Vila was a familiar companion. He would not have made excuses had he been with Vila, either, though it would have been simple pleasure and gratification, not the sense of complete, inevitable rightness he had felt last night.

      "So, Blake loves you. You love him. You've never been a trusting man, Avon. You were afraid to take the risk, perhaps to conceptualise the risk. Yet now the risk has been taken, and I think you will admit, at least to yourself, that it was worth it."

      Avon was not prepared to admit anything, least of all that. It was too important to take that kind of chance. He folded his arms fiercely across his chest as if to shield himself and refused to comment.

      "Avon." Jabberwocky's voice was suddenly stern. "I know you. I've been linked to you, which means I've actually been you, at least briefly. I know you as well as, if not better, than you know yourself. I know things about you that you won't admit or acknowledge. I know you care about Blake, and about the others. I know right now your instinct is to run, to go as far away from us as you can as fast as you can. I know if you do that, you'll be destroying something important and you'll be punishing yourself and Blake for something that was no one's fault. Is the need to protect yourself more important than your happiness and Blake's and that of the rest of this crew?"

      "I fail to see what the rest of this crew has to do with any of this," said Avon through stiff lips.

      "You're not used to being part of a family, Avon, but that's what you've become, all of you. It took me a long time to realise that myself. When my memories came back, I knew what I'd lost. You showed me I could still have intellectual joy and I value that, but what all of you together showed me was that I was still a part of a family. Not just my son, but all of you. Life in the Federation doesn't encourage that kind of feeling and I know you never had it when you were a child, so you don't understand it. Knowing someone is here who matters and who will back you gives you security. These people are your family, Avon. If you are happy, they'll be happy for you. Vila may tease, but Vila is like your younger brother, and that's what brothers do. It doesn't mean he'd stand in the way of your joy."

      "Joy?" echoed Avon in a flat voice, every bit of him wanting to deny Jabberwocky's words because if they were true it meant he was vulnerable after all, too easily hurt. He'd fought so hard to avoid being hurt that he wasn't sure how to live without those protections.

      "Yes, joy. When I realised what had happened, the one thing I remember the most was your utter joy. I've never felt that from you before. Hate me if you must, but don't hate Blake. He wouldn't understand and it would break his heart."

      Avon glared at Jabberwocky's fascia. "I have a command for you," he said coldly, his hands closing into fists in annoyance that he had been so well read.

      "Yes, Avon?" Jabberwocky's voice was taut and wary.

      "The next time - the next time you are together with Tarrant and Vila, I expect you to remember to shield, consciously. And I expect you to inform me beforehand so I can take precautions."

      Jabberwocky hesitated a long moment as if he didn't dare say anything about what must have seemed a concession. Avon wasn't sure if it were a concession or not; that wouldn't come until he'd faced Blake. But for now it wouldn't hurt to set some limits.

      "Very well," Jabberwocky said. "But you bled through to me, too. Not strongly, but I would have picked it up at any other time. Here is what I propose. If you and Blake plan to be together, shut down my access in whichever cabin you're in. That access always boosts linkage. That should resolve the problem."

      "Agreed," said Avon stiffly, not entirely certain what he was agreeing to. It didn't mean he was committing himself to staying and taking the risks that entailed. But for all his talk of boltholes, he suspected he'd come so close to the others, not just Blake but all of them, that leaving and finding the bolthole he'd long talked about would mean pulling the very skin from his body and leaving himself a mass of bleeding wounds.

      The light on the panel blinked out, indicating Avon had his privacy again. He glared at the screen, still seething with conflicting emotions, then, with a sigh of exasperation, he strode across the room, out of the door and down the passage to the computer crawlways behind the flight deck. He could work in there for hours, uninterrupted.

      It was the start of the last watch when he emerged for good, brushing away a cobweb or two. He'd spent the time lost in thought, none of it pleasant except for the memories of himself and Blake, memories he'd almost not dared to touch. Jabberwocky might be right after all, that to shut the others out now was to run away from himself. He hadn't thought of his shielding and protection as cowardice and still didn't, just as a means to avoid pain, but in the long run, the pain had never stayed safely away. It had always been with him. Being here on  _Jabberwocky_  with Blake and the others, even sharing in the group linkages, had changed him too much for the old methods to work any more.

      But it all came back to Blake. He had to talk to Blake, and he had to talk to him with shields in place. It was a test, he knew that, but he also knew he wouldn't be able to stay unless he faced Blake. The time would come and come soon, and he didn't look forward to it at all.

      Finally, realising his thoughts were going in circles, Avon left the crawlways behind. He was prepared to have a meal and go back to his own cabin, but the first person he met was Blake. In spite of all the hours of thought and preparation, he wasn't ready for that.

      Blake's eyes lit with a private warmth, meant for him alone, and it was so compelling, so welcome, so soothing to the barren reaches of Avon's heart that he felt himself returning it before he stiffened up. When Blake looked surprised and disappointed, Avon said, "I have to talk to you."

      Blake nodded and followed him down the passage to the Avon's cabin. Avon shut the door behind him and switched off Jabberwocky's relay. "I think you should know," he said in a completely level voice, "that my actions last night were boosted by the link with Jabberwocky as he shared a sexual encounter with Tarrant and Vila."

      Blake stared at him as if it were the last thing he could imagine Avon telling him. "Meaning?" he asked warily.

      "Meaning - we were manipulated, Blake. It wasn't real. None of it was real. It was merely Jabberwocky and the others, their feelings bleeding through."

      Blake's whole body tensed and shadows took all the brightness out of his eyes, then, abruptly, the brightness came back. His shoulders squared and he grabbed hold of the situation with both hands as he grabbed Avon by the arms, his fingers digging in hard. "All night and this morning, too?" he asked suspiciously, biting his bottom lip as if to hold back a smile. "I had no idea Vila had so much energy." He didn't back down. "Physical arousal can be triggered by many things, Avon. But if you hadn't wanted me, you wouldn't have stayed. I know you too well for that. If you had been unhappy with the arrangement, you would have told me so in no uncertain terms. as you've always done with everything about me that annoyed you. or else you would have left fast so I didn't notice and shut yourself away until you rationalised it to your own private satisfaction. Instead you chose to act, and in a way I have hoped you would act for some time now. If I have anything to say to Jabberwocky about what happened, it would be a profound 'thank you' for the assistance."

      Avon heard a sudden note of warmth running through the other man's voice and he snapped, "Damn you, Blake..." before he could stop himself.

      "That sounds more like my Avon," Blake replied with a grin of pure contentment. "Have you considered that motivation in a direction you had intended to take in any case is more helpful than otherwise?"

      "Are you so sure I meant to take it?" Avon asked through clenched teeth.

      Blake's fingers tightened and he shook Avon lightly. It was like being touched by wildfire. "I know it to the depth of my being," he replied, "And so do you. I don't blame you for your anger. I would have been angry, too. But if you let this come between us..."

      Warmth ran through Avon. Blake hadn't hesitated and he hadn't gone carefully. He'd plunged in the way he always did and dealt with the situation before it got out of hand. He was smiling now, expectantly, as if he knew his Avon would see reason in this, if in nothing else.

      "Is that a threat, Blake?" Avon demanded, the ice beginning to thaw in his veins. If Blake had hesitated even for a moment, Avon might have persisted, but Blake hadn't. Blake saw no need for it. He meant it when he said he owed Jabberwocky a thank you. Avon wasn't inclined to be so forgiving, but there was something in what the rebel said.

      "Try me." Blake's hands slid up Avon's arms to his shoulders, and with sudden strength he pulled Avon against him and kissed him fiercely, as if he were drawing swords and making a challenge.

      For a long moment, Avon didn't respond, struggled against responding, though he knew from the start that the struggle was futile, then his hands were on Blake's back, pulling him closer, and his mouth was opening under the probing of Blake's tongue. The kiss went on and on until both men were breathless.

      "Jabberwocky didn't manipulate you then, Avon," Blake snapped ferociously, shaking him again. "Did he?"

      "No," Avon snapped back, steel against steel. "You did. But then you have had plenty of practice at that."

      Blake lifted an eyebrow. "Indeed?" he said, amusement ill-concealed. "Then what do you suggest the next step should be?"

      Avon cursed under his breath. He had always been helpless before this man, but he had never admitted it, had never been willing to admit it, considering such an admission a sign of weakness. Now, looking at Blake's expectant face, he realised it might well be a sign of strength. Blake had needed him as much, yet Blake had always gone cautiously, knowing full well Avon might run. What he hadn't known lately was which direction Avon would go if he did, and not until last night had a direction been obvious. Or, at least, obvious enough for anything to happen. If he left now, he might be safe - but there would always be a vast hollow place inside him, a place where only Blake could fit. Damn it. A place where the others fitted as well, even Jenna. Even the annoying Perren. Damn them all, they had made him need them, and he would never be the same again. Blake had turned him into something he didn't recognise, made him dependent, and the old Avon was no longer in command. He was changed, changed for all time and nothing would ever be the same again.

      But then, he thought, remembering the companion-ship he had shared of late with the others in the crew, and recalling with astonishing warmth the sharing with Blake the night before and this morning, did he even want to be the same?

      "The next step?" he asked, his voice not quite steady. "I think you should - manipulate me again. I feel a strong need of more of your... manipulation." He moved his body urgently against Blake, realising what Blake must have known already, how aroused both of them had become.

      Blake's eyes blazed. "Whatever else happens," he said with low intensity, "whatever anyone says or does, I won't have them come between us. I am quite prepared to fight for you, Avon, even I have to fight you, yourself. You may be the most stubborn man I have ever met, but I prefer you that way - as long as you are here." He tightened his grip on Avon and tumbled them both onto the bed.

      This time, there was new urgency in their coupling. As they struggled free of clothing and explored bodies rapidly becoming familiar, Avon realised he simply didn't care about Jabberwocky's actions. For once, he would go with what had happened and benefit from it. With a groan of sheer pleasure, he let Blake stroke and fondle him, rousing him with hands and mouth, until he was helpless in the grip of his desire. When Blake turned him over and prepared him for the entry to come, Avon's breath grew hoarse and eager, wanting this more than anything he could remember. Blake had always been able to play him like an instrument, and tonight was no different. "Hurry," he urged. "Now, Blake, now!"

      Soon Blake was filling him, joining them completely. Avon arched back to meet him, savouring every sensation. If there was pain, he was scarcely aware of it, but it passed quickly, lost in the strange intensity of excitement that shivered through him. He had never consciously fantasised about this moment, but it felt familiar to him as if he had known it in dreams.

      "Avon, oh, damn it Avon, this feels so right," breathed Blake in his ear as he curled his body up behind Avon and began to move.

      At first he was slow, drawing back and pushing in again with an agonizing delay that made Avon frantic for each new movement. He tried to push back to meet Blake, but Blake had a hand on his hip, stilling him. "Let me love you," he breathed. "I've wanted you, wanted this so long..."

      "Hurry," Avon moaned. "Faster, Blake." He couldn't speak words of love; it wasn't his way. He let his need show in his voice though, his body responding to Blake's every movement. Blake could read him as well as Jabberwocky claimed to. Blake would know.

      The motions continued slow like long deep caresses, then, almost imperceptibly, Blake quickened his pace, his breathing hot in Avon's ear. "So tight," he moaned. "Don't want to hurt you..."

      "You're not hurting me," Avon said wryly, almost on the verge of laughter. There had never been laughter in the midst of sex before. Why did it feel so natural now? "Don't you think I'd tell you - loudly - if you were? Damn you, do it harder."

      His words must have snapped something in Blake, because he gasped and abruptly thrust harder. With a great groan, Avon arched back into each movement, wanting it to go on forever. The word, "Yesssss!" shuddered free of his clenched teeth.

      Blake gave a moan of intense arousal at the desperate need in the sound and with his breath whistling in his throat he pumped harder into his lover. His hand left Avon's hip and reached around to grasp his shaft, encircling it and pumping it in rhythm with his own driving thrusts. Avon shuddered at the incredible sensations that threatened to put his senses into overload and abandoned himself to them, his body moving automatically, seeking every nuance of the pleasure. He wanted to hold this moment for ever, but the pleasure was too intense to last.

      Blake gave himself to him, burying himself in Avon's willing body. They were together. They were one. Blake's whole body was shaking with the intensity of his arousal. When he gave a sudden groan and exploded, filling Avon with a gushing warmth, Avon's own body went into overload. He came hard, his body arched back against Blake as if to hold him for ever. They let the sensations run through them and finally ebb away into a completion so rich Avon felt his eyes burn with it. When Blake withdrew, he pulled Avon into his arms and held him with a strength that belied the exhausted tremors that still racked his body.

      "If you won't thank Jabberwocky for that," he panted, struggling to control his breathing, "then I'll have to do it for you."

      "You claim to have a way with words," Avon said, forcing his voice to sound level and in control. "Be my guest."

      Blake sputtered into laughter. "Am I to take it from this dry and understated remark that you've accepted the situation and mean to stay?"

      Avon turned on his side so he could look Blake in the eye. "I suspect if I left you'd come after me and drag me back by the hair."

      Blake's eyes sparkled. "Maybe not by the hair," he said. "But I don't intend to lose you. We've come too close to pull apart now. It would be like tearing off my own skin."

      Avon recognised the analogy as one he'd used himself. "Yes," he said. "I do mean to stay. Because I suspect if I didn't, it wouldn't only be you who'd come after me. Cally I could tolerate, and possibly Vila and Hugh, but if I have to listen to one more lecture from Perren about how he means to 'humanise' me..."

      Blake started to laugh. "I think he can find something else to complain about," he said, hugging Avon tightly and smiling when Avon didn't stiffen away from the affectionate gesture. "If you weren't completely 'human' just now then there's no hope for you."

 

 

      Avon leaned against Blake, feeling completely at ease and suspecting it was a feeling he could grow to enjoy.

      "Now then, Blake," he said with pretended stiffness, "There's no need to get sentimental about all this."

      "Isn't there?" Blake asked and kissed him.

      "Well now," Avon conceded when his mouth was free for talking, "I see no need in to become sentimental in order to prove I care." And when Blake lifted an eyebrow, he continued, "If I must prove it, so be it, but at least give me time to catch my breath."

      The warmth in Blake's eyes made Avon realise the peace just might last. "Oh, I can wait, Avon," he said. "I'm a very patient man. I'll give you, shall we say, half an hour..."


End file.
